


A withered red rose: A dark king Callum fic, REWORKED

by Lloyd_is_doing_his_best



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Animal Death, Assassination, Assassination Attempt(s), Attempted Murder, Blood and Gore, Bloodshed, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Child Death, Death, Fire, Genocide, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Murder, Near Death, Not beta read we die like moonshadow elves, Original Character Death(s), Other, Pain, Past Character Death, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Regicide, Self-Hatred, Serious Injuries, Slow To Update, Torture, War, Your favorites may die, how'd i forgot the angst tags?, hurt little to no comfort, i have school y'all, sometimes at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27701105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lloyd_is_doing_his_best/pseuds/Lloyd_is_doing_his_best
Summary: So uh. sorry for leaving this unfinished but I'm back and after writing some more I have improved my skills.Based on an Au made by me a long time ago and to make a long fucking story short:Callum kills Ezran and becomes the king and rules as a sadistic tyrant and uses dark magic to bend his subjects to his will.
Relationships: Amaya/Janai (The Dragon Prince), Marcos/original character, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, or not... - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	A withered red rose: A dark king Callum fic, REWORKED

As the warm sunlight of midday flooded through the cold castle, a young green-eyed king became increasingly more and more impatient. It had been hours since the prophet was supposed to arrive, and those hours, those minutes, those seconds he was running late were slowly chipping away at the king’s patience. Soren, a guard of his, shot a nervous glance at his fellow guard, Gren. Gren gulped nervously and tried to say composed and calm for the both of them, though it was hard with his mind racing back and forth. The last time the young king had gotten mad, he sentenced an unsuspecting crow master to a horrible punishment. Just thinking of the screams that rang out that night were enough to send shivers down his spine. 

Gren suddenly snapped out his thoughts upon hearing a sound that sent relief into his mind, footsteps. The silent throne room was soon filled with the loud creak of a door. A nervous-looking elf walked into the room followed by a winged lion and a guard. There was something more peculiar about the elf that drew attention to him. Aside from being the product of an Earthblood and Sunfire elf, his markings seemed to glow brightly, as well as the flowers that adorned his hair. While the elf continued making his way towards the throne, his companions stayed put near the door, as they’d dare not get any closer to the tyrant who proclaimed himself as a “king”. 

Knowing his manners, the prophet bowed down to the king and with a nervous breath began to speak, “M-my apologies for my tardiness, King Callum” He stuttered out, not yet looking up from his bow. With a loud tch the young king spoke with harsh yet calm words, “Tardiness would imply you were only a few minutes behind time. You, however, have kept me waiting since before the dawn of the new day. Had you been one of my people, you would be dead in a river for keeping me waiting this long.” The prophet hesitated before issuing another soft apology and rising up from his bow. “Now” King Callum rested his head on his knuckles. “You had a prophecy, didn’t you? Say it now”

The prophet nodded before speaking his prophecy, his voice shaking from the previous threat. “You will singe the lands like a hungry flame, during your reign, you shall scorch all that oppose you…” He glanced up at the king, nervous to speak the second half, knowing he would not it receive it well. “..but once you are at your highest, a  _ red-headed _ warrior will extinguish you and bring a new era of peace.” The prophet’s gaze darted to the ground, he already could tell the king’s expression was twisting into one of outrage. 

The tyrant’s furious expression turned into a calm one quickly as he composed himself just for the moment. “I see. Well then, if that is all, leave immediately and never return.” Despite his calm voice, the malice dripping from his voice was clear as day. With one final bow to the king, the prophet left alongside his companions. As soon as the door shut, it was as plain as day that the tyrant’s rage was boiling over, unnerving every guard in the room. ‘A read-headed Warrior’ Soren thought, turning his gaze towards Gren. ‘He can’t possibly mean…’ Soren glanced up towards his king, quickly regretting the action as soon as he was met back with a rage-filled glare. “Soren, I have an order for you and your army, Effective immediately.” 

**“Kill everyone in the kingdom with red hair, including visitors from Xadia and children. Leave no one spared.”** __  
  
Soren froze in his spot for a second, his breathing hitching to a point almost causing him to go hysterical right then and there, the only thing stopping him was the agitated voice of his king. “Soren. You know how much I hate repeating myself, don’t you? When I give you an order I expect you to respond accordingly.” He scoffed, looking at his fear-stricken guard. Soren, still on the edge of hysteria, tried to calm down his king, anything to stop something as horrible as this. “Bu-but my king, we can’t just kill all those innocent people! It’s ge-genocide on a large scale! Especially if we were to kill the elves in this kingdom! The c-conflict it could cause between Xadia is—” 

“Soren,” The young king hushed the young soldier with a simple call of his name before continuing to talk. “How is this different from the battles you’ve led? The countless blood you yourself have shed just to obtain simple ingredients used for dark magic for me?” The tyrant had a sadist grin on his face before continuing to speak. “You yourself are not free on this bloodshed. You are no better than the monster that I have become over my current reign. In 2 years you’ve killed more people then you have saved? And for what? To appease a tyrant because you’re a spineless maggot or to satisfy a bloodlust you have deep within yourself?” 

Soren felt a bead of sweat drip down from his forehead. While he did enjoy the thrill of war and fighting he hated killing others and executing prisoners. Conquering was glorified far beyond his thoughts as a child, the glory of being the commander of war seemed like such an honourable thing in stories but the horror of it all was too much. The thoughts of the innocent dying in villages due to crossfire, the pleads of prisoners begging for their life’s, the screams of agony on the battlefield, the stench of blood in the aftermath from injured and dying soldiers he was forced to leave behind, and the guilt and faces of the people he killed appearing in his nightmares to shame him, mock him, belittle him, it was all too much. He never wanted this.

**_He just wanted to be a hero…_ **

A constant snapping noise soon brought him out of his thoughts once again. “How incompetent are you? This is the second time today you’ve spaced out like this.” The young tyrant said with a cold sharpened tongue. “I need you to listen well to this part, as I don’t want to repeat your punishment again.” Soren’s heart skipped a beat, ‘Punishment?’ he thought, his mind racing back and forth to what his king could possibly mean by this. Unable to fully mentally prepare for what could be his punishment, he tried to brace himself as much as possible for his king’s next words. 

**“Your punishment is to kill your right-hand man, Gren. Immediately.”**

Soren body’s ceased all movement upon hearing those words as if he was hit with an ice-cold spell from a frostbite elf. In his mind he knew what he heard was right but he was pleading with himself that is wasn’t true. He just didn’t want it to be true. Gren on the other hand was slightly more accepting of this but still somewhat afraid. He knew that by chance the king would also come for him but he didn’t expect this to happen so soon. “Soren” The tyrant’s voice cut through both of their thoughts like an arrow. “What are you waiting for? Did you not hear me? Or is it that you’d prefer for me to do it myself?” a soft scoff was followed by the rummaging of items in a bag. As soon as Callum had pulled out what he needed, he looked at Soren, waiting for a response. 

With a silent gulp, Soren’s hand hovered over his sword and he turned towards Gren. He knew what would happen if the sadist of a king executed him. He’d seen countless knights under him suffer long torturous deaths just to please the king. Even if taking the life of someone he cared was cruel, it was certainly better than what his king had to offer as an alternative. Clutching the grip of his sword tightly with tears starting to well up in his eyes, he approached Gren repeating in his mind the fact that he was indeed giving him a merciful death. “I-i’m so sorry, Gren” Soren felt a lump form in the back of his throat as Gren spoke his final words. “Don’t worry, Soren. I’d rather it be you who took my life than someone else” And with that, a pained gasp filled the castle before Gren weakly placed his hand on Soren’s back as a weak but comforting hug. Gren closed his eyes and smiled slightly, losing consciousness soon after to bloodloss, all the while Soren cried tears of guilt and agony.

Fearful eyes watched through the cracks of the throne room door. “So, how’d he take it?” a young feminine voice said with an oh so familiar Scottish accent. “Horribly. Had I not known any better, I would have thought the old him you described was an entirely different person.” The prophet spoke softly, his voice quaking. “He is.” The feminine voice replied back, the voice had a soft undertone of pain in betrayal, but who could blame her. The prophet took one last look at the scene. The dirty blonde was grieving hard. Harder than he had ever seen anyone done so before. With a sigh, the prophet got up and left for Xadia, the only place he’d ever be safe. 

A low sadistic chuckle rang out through the throne room from the mouth of the king before he got up to make his way to his own quarters. “Oh and Soren?” The King looked down at the horrible sight nearby him. Soren didn’t even bother looking up this time before the king spoke “Do me a favour and throw out the body, would you? As much as bloodstains make an excellent decoration on the floor, Rotting corpses tend to completely scare away our guests.” And with that, the king continued on to his quarters.


End file.
